


petsitting

by haloud



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9687554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: When Allen has to leave town for a few days, he leaves his pet cat with Link.  When he returns, he finds the two have bonded, and some other things are changing as well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic ive ever written that doesnt have a song lyric title. what have i become.

“You know, I’ve never owned a cat,” Link says, holding his hand out to Timcanpy. 

“Couldn’t, that is.  Levellier hates them, and Goushi’s allergic.  I always wanted a pet, though, and I was fascinated by animals of all kinds.”

Huge amber eyes just stare at him and find him wanting.  Timcanpy turns his head away from Link’s hand, settling it in his paws.  Link sighs and follows suit, dropping his chin onto his fist.

“I wonder what your master is up to right now.”

Sitting here like this, Link is nearly overcome with the realization of how much his life has changed in a few short months.  From his strict, repressive upbringing under Levellier to a neurotic, stuffy adolescence, Link has suddenly found himself wearing sweatpants and a soft, over-washed t-shirt that isn’t his own, having a conversation with a cat at three o’clock in the afternoon.

Having a conversation with a cat and _pining,_ that is.

God, he’s so pathetic.  Allen bats those big gray eyes at him once, and he’s suddenly agreed to pet-sit Allen’s cat for three days while he’s out of town doing…something.  He’d been very cagey when Link tried to get clarification.  But, ultimately, it’s really none of Link’s business, and it’s not like Timcanpy has ever been much of a hassle, outside the occasional bit of mischief.  But still…Link heaves another sigh.  Alone in his dorm room, it doesn’t matter how pathetic he looks.  Timcanpy rolls over, and Link hesitantly starts petting his belly.  A small smile appears on his face as the cat begins to purr.

“Yes, I miss him too.”

Link may be a sucker, but at least he got some quality time with Timcanpy out of it.

\--

_Brrmph?_

Suddenly, something with a strange, spongy texture comes down insistently on Link’s mouth, jerking him out of sleep and making him sputter.  He awakens to the sight of Timcanpy crouched on his chest, paw slightly raised as if to smack him again. 

Link groans and rubs his eyes, groping for his phone on the nightstand.  5:12 am.  Lovely.

“Brrmph.”

“Can we negotiate this, you demon creature?”

Timcanpy begins kneading his chest, putting all his (considerable) weight into each paw.  His claws nick Link’s skin through his shirt.

“Now, I know for a fact that Walker does not wake up early enough to be feeding you at this time.”

Of course, his first mistake was expecting any sort of animal owned and doted on by Allen Walker to adhere to a schedule, or to _not_ take pleasure in tormenting Link specifically.  If only Allen had left him any _instructions_ for the care of this creature…

Timcanpy meows again, a sound far more insistent than his earlier half-purred, inquisitive noises.  He stands up and walks away, directly down Link’s body, driving the air from his lungs as a fat cat trods all over his stomach.  A few moments of silence pass, and Link gratefully drops his head back down to his pillow.  He can get a few more hours of sleep before having to start the day.

…Until a meow more like a scream echoes from the kitchen, accompanied by a faint scraping noise.  And then the sound of breaking glass.

It’s a distinct possibility that Timcanpy only seemed well-behaved because the animal didn’t enjoy tormenting his real owner…

Rolling out of bed, Link sighs heavily and slides his feet into his slippers.  Three days isn’t so terribly long, and he cannot back out of a promise now, no longer how sleep deprived it makes him.

Timcanpy yowls again from down the hall, and Link shouts back “ _Alright!”_  And he grabs the broom and dustpan from the closet on his way to see what carnage has been done to the kitchen.

\--

Allen learned a long time ago that Link is absolutely abysmal at every form of electronic communication and social media, so he can hardly believe his eyes when his phone buzzes and his name pops up on the screen.  The only possibility is that Link is dying, most likely from a grisly throat wound that prevents him from speaking or else he’d just call, so Allen wastes no time opening the message to see what’s going on.

It’s a picture.

It’s a picture of an enormous blob of orange fur.  His Timcanpy; the cat is lying on his back, feet in the air and curled up, eyes half-closed and self-satisfied.  He seems to have nested into the center of Link’s bed, choosing to sleep, of course, on top of the clothes Link has already fastidiously laid out for the next day.

Suddenly, ridiculously, totally out of Allen’s control—he lets out a little giggle at the same time his eyes mist up with tears.

 _‘srry my son is giving you trouble ehehe but he’s so cute thnk u for this blessing <3 <3’ _Allen sends back.  He locks his phone and rests it back on his leg but quickly picks it up again.  ‘ _You should send me more pics!! Daily updates of my fur child, I demand this.  Pics of you as well! And maybe even..someday..some words from u ;)’_ After all, what if a lack of encouragement means that Link never texts him again?

Link still has read receipts on.  Bless him.  Still feeling a little choked up, Allen nestles back against the bus window and flicks back to the picture.  It’s so endearingly bad that he can barely stand it; the lighting is dim, it’s out of focus, and it’s at a slight angle, almost as if Link had been holding the phone awkwardly up to his face like an old viewfinder camera.  But the phrase “it’s the thought that counts” has never been more applicable.  _Howard Link,_ the man who only avoids the title of Least Technology Savvy because Yuu Kanda exists in this world, taking unprompted pictures just to send to Allen?  He’s going to treasure this picture forever.  He’s going to print it out and put it in his wallet.  This is the best possible thing that could come out of skipping town for a few days and leaving his cat behind.

Content and eager to pass the rest of his trip quickly, Allen has almost dozed off against the bus window when he feels another buzz.  Sleepy-eyed, he checks his phone again.

‘ _If you’re in such dire need of some words from me, then perhaps you should come home more quickly.  We’ve missed you, after all.’_

It would probably draw some undue attention if Allen were to bust out crying on public transportation.  He settles for clutching his phone to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut and just—

He’s so ready to be home.

_\--_

Allen has accumulated an impressive collection on his keyring over the past few months.  Lenalee and Miranda were the first to give him a key and say their door would always be open for him; then he found Bookman giving him a key over breakfast ‘because Junior always finds a way to lock himself out of the house;’ then he was given keys to Jerry’s diner, then Reever gave him a key to the lab, and then, finally, Link had, so in character for him, tucked a labeled key into the pocket of Allen’s coat.  Allen hadn’t discovered it until a few days later, and he’d ended up wailing on Lenalee’s couch about his feelings.

This is going to be the first time he ever actually _uses_ it, though.

The bus had run late, as usual; he’d kept texting Link for a while, but the replies had slowly petered off before stopping altogether around 9:30—his bedtime, the loser.  But Link’s campus apartment is only about a 10-minute walk from the bus stop, so he didn’t bother calling anyone out to pick him up. 

Allen’s hands tremble slightly with the quiet implication that comes with putting the key in the lock and turning it, but he doesn’t hesitate as he steps inside.

Heavy footsteps and loud laughter echo from Link’s upstairs neighbors, and a washing machine is running somewhere else in the building, but once Allen closes the door behind him everything is muffled.  He places his backpack in the hallway and tiptoes to the kitchen. 

Link, being Link, never fails to leave the kitchen spotless.  But not even his perfectionism can triumph over the destructive power of a cat, especially when he isn’t used to it.  Little flour-y pawprints trail out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom, and Allen can’t suppress a grin upon noticing them.  Where is that cat?  He usually comes to greet whoever walks in the door, particularly if it’s a smell he recognizes.  When it’s Allen himself, he never fails to come.  But now…

Oh well.  Who knows what exciting new nooks and crannies he’s made into hiding places in Link’s apartment.  Travel has left Allen exhausted, so rather than searching for the animal he wanders back to the living room with plans to collapse on the couch and deal with it in the morning.  He rounds the corner with a jaw-cracking yawn, but is then pulled up short, hand still over his mouth.

On the couch in the living room, Link is fast asleep with his hair loose over the cushions.  His face is turned to the side, where Timcanpy, in all his glory, is laying on his arm looking very smug.  The cat blinks slowly at Allen, frozen in shock in the doorway.

“Oh my gooooodddd,” Allen whisper-screams as he tiptoes closer and proximity reveals a smudge of flour and chocolate over Link’s cheek.  Link, always a light sleeper, rolls onto his side.  His eyes flutter open, hazy from sleep and glassy reflecting the streetlights outside. 

“Allen!” He says on a shocked gasp, jerking into sitting position, dislodging both the cat and the blanket.  Timcanpy yelps and bolts off the couch, and his claws scramble on the tile in the hallway as he goes. 

Allen clamps his hand over his mouth.  The mark on Link’s face looks even cuter when he starts to blush.  His hair is a little frizzy on the side that had been mushed against the couch, and with the blanket fallen down to his waist Allen can see that Link is wearing the ridiculous matching pajamas Tokusa bought him for Christmas—the ones with little moons and stars all over them.

“Sorry to startle you,” Allen says, voice still a whisper despite Link being awake now and them being the only ones in the apartment.

“Not at all,” Link replies, and he tries for his usual casual put-together-ness, but his voice catches on the sleep still clogging his throat.  He clears his throat self-consciously and looks away.  “Ah…I—or, that is, _we,_ Timcanpy and I—were waiting up for you.  But sleep must have gotten the better of me.”

“That’s fine.  I’m late, I know.  You could’ve just gone to bed.”

“I wanted to see you when you arrived.  I tried to makes something to welcome you home as well, but Timcanpy… _complicated_ the process.”

“What do you mean?”

“He ate half a cake through the plastic wrap it was in.”

Allen busts out laughing, less at the thought of Timcanpy eating a cake and more at the consternation in Link’s voice and the grumpy set of his jaw.

“Well, it’s the thought that counts.”

“I will make you something tomorrow.  It’s only right to commemorate a homecoming.”

“I was only gone for three days, Link.”

“Even so.”

The streetlight and the moon filter through the cheap vinyl blinds over the window, and in the slatted light Allen can’t be sure of Link’s expression.  But there’s a certainty in his voice, a steadiness—Link is, surprisingly to those who might not know him well, often bashful when confronted with emotional moments.  Here in the dark, however, the sleepy flush has filtered out of his cheeks, and nothing wavers when his gaze locks with Allen’s. 

Allen hasn’t formally moved in or anything—hasn’t even thought about it.  Leaving Timcanpy with Link for a few days was more convenience than anything else—Miranda fears hurting any animal, Kanda is a dog person, and Lavi’s enthusiasm for the task was a little frightening all on its own.  Link is low-key, responsible, and Tim already liked him.  Until now, Allen hadn’t even been totally certain he was allowed to call Link his _friend,_ no matter how he thought of him in his head. 

If Allen knows Timcanpy, he’s probably already established himself in the center of Link’s bed.  It’ll be a chore to get around him or dislodge him for a good night’s rest.  Link’s probably learned that over the past few days as well, but even so he stands up from the couch and takes a moment to adjust the pillow and blanket.

“Let me know if you need another pillow.  You must be exhausted from traveling.  You can tell me about your trip tomorrow, as well as instruct me in what you want your welcoming gift to be.”

He heads off towards his bedroom without another word, without any acknowledgment of the fact that he’s letting Allen stay the night.

“Then it sounds like we’ve got a big day ahead of us,” Allen says to the empty room once he finds his voice once more.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao im sorry this is so disjointed i wanted to have more cat shenanigans (because i have three cats, and all of tim's hijinks are based on my own furry assholes), but then i got blindsided by some cute feels.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> hope you enjoy anyway!
> 
> for more dgm college au shenanigans, come talk to me or ultramarcypan over at tumblr~


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